Not So Merry Murder Read online

  Seth raised his brows as I walked toward the shed. “What’s going on?”

  “I need to see Marlena.”

  Garth grunted from his chair, the last kid already gone. “I haven’t seen her since lunch.” He shrugged, bunching up the plush red suit he wore. “She was supposed to bring my flask back with Jack.”

  I shook my head and walked past him on the gaudily decorated porch. “I’ll check in here.”

  There wasn’t much inside the shed, but if Marlena wasn’t out there with us, this was the only other area she could be hiding in. I opened the door and entered. A table and chair were shoved to the side of the mostly one-room space—a lunch break spot none of us ever wanted to use. It was damned suffocating in here. I wasn’t claustrophobic by nature, but I never wanted to stay in this box for long. We only ever came in here to stash our personal belongings, like a staff room of sorts. My purse and coat were draped over a stool, my snow boots standing in the middle of a puddle from this morning’s weather.

  I continued on, rounding past a pile of empty cardboard containers the garland had come in. A spare short Christmas tree stood alone like an outcast, the silver and rose ornaments duller with the strand of LED bulbs off. My curled-toe slippers jingled and jangled their bells as I went further into the semi-dark shed. Light shone through the windows, and it was just enough brightness to see where I was heading.

  “Yo, Marlena? Are you in here?” I called out.

  I walked around the quarter of a wall, toward the back corner of the hut.

  Her knee-high red leather boots came into view first.

  My breath caught.

  Then I spied the rest of her, lying on the floor.

  My heart raced as my body froze in place.

  Blood spread out in an amoeba-shaped blob from her stomach. The red stained her white shirt, her furry crimson coat flung open. Her chest didn’t heave in breaths. She was too still.

  “Oh. Fuck,” I whispered as I stared at her wide-open eyes.

  Mrs. Claus was dead.

  Chapter Two

  Marlena Ridge—Mrs. Claus—was one of the world’s most awful women.

  No, I didn’t mean it like a political statement. She was a nasty woman. A vile soul no matter her gender. Marlena was a cheap, greedy, devious, slave-driving, selfish, and petty person.

  She’d constantly harped on me for not wearing my elf skirt short enough and bitched when I buttoned up my vest all the way. “Sex sells, kid. Get with the program and show some skin,” she’d complained on my second day here.

  She’d manipulated Garth into his Santa job by feeding into his alcoholism. “Just sit there and shut up. Be a jolly old drunk and smile for the camera.”

  She’d once smacked Seth for teasing her about her preference for McDonald’s over the Chinese cuisine from the mall’s food court. “I don’t want any foreigners making my lunch.”

  And I’d constantly overheard her mumbling racist remarks about the kids who’d trickle through the line to sit on Garth’s lap. “Hmm mmm. That mama sure was sleeping around to have such a colorful bunch of mutts.”

  She was, in all purposes of the phrase, a hated person.

  But dead?

  It was a reality I’d discovered firsthand. The truth of it, though, still struggled to sick. Despite having to spend the last three hours explaining again, and again, and again how I’d found her in the North Pole shed, I had a hard time absorbing the news.

  Maybe it was shock.

  I hadn’t had the rosiest of childhoods, and I’d consider a raincheck on adulthood as well, at the rate mine was going. Yet, I’d never actually stumbled upon a corpse. Death, I was familiar with, unfortunately. My parents were killed in a drunk driving accident when I was eighteen, and my sister—Damon’s mother—was at the wheel. All three dead on impact.

  I was an oops baby, a surprise when my mom was nearing retirement. When I was just two, my sixteen-year-old sister got knocked up, making me an awfully young aunt. Damon and I had lost our parents at an early age, but we’d learned of that from a kindly, apologetic state trooper. Not by walking into a small red and green shed set at a fake North Pole.

  Perhaps I hadn’t really come to terms with the notion Marlena was dead because I hadn’t had the time to let it settle in my brain. Since finding her there, I was whisked to the side, told to stay put, and then probed for information. Franklin Mall’s security workers questioned me first. Right on their heels, the real guys showed up. Police officers quickly came to the scene and took control.

  Yep. Cops. Including the very one I’d rather not see ever again.

  Knox James, to his credit, didn’t pounce on me. As soon as I’d caught a glance of his tall, broad-shouldered form cutting through the crowd of onlookers, I groaned. He’d cast one raised-eyebrow smirk at me but continued on to the shed with forensic-looking techs, leaving me with the officers already speaking to me.

  Yellow tape was promptly laced around the perimeter of Santa’s North Pole Hut, marking it a crime scene. No more work for today, that was for sure. And I wondered if I’d be out of a job for the season. With a dead body at the North Pole only seven days before Christmas, it wasn’t looking good.

  Seth, Garth, and I were stuck there, though—off the clock, of course. A trio of cops came by and questioned us. They had the decency to lead us toward a corner of the mall where an ornately bedazzled Christmas tree loomed over some furniture for tired shoppers. Basically a rest pit for husbands to sit on while their wives shopped. Over the repeating lyrics of the one song the mall knew how to play, at least in the speakers in this branch of the building, we were interrogated. As soon as I answered all the questions one officer asked me, a different guy would come by and take another round of poking at me. Then again. And again.

  I got it. I’d seen crime shows and movies. I’d read mystery books. I knew they were just doing their job and thoroughly picking at us as witnesses and other individuals involved in the crime scene. They’d repeat the questions so many times to ensure we’d answer consistently.

  But… When will this be done? I leaned forward, bracing my elbows on my knees and rubbing at my face. I couldn’t count how many times I’d answered the same damn questions with the same damn answers. Couldn’t they collaborate their notes by now?

  I lifted my face from my hands, as we were allowed a short break while the cops huddled with some crime scene techs. They stood together, speaking. I hoped they were discussing letting us go. No one was arrested, but it was clear that they would be the ones to dismiss us. A huff of air warmed my palms and I wondered when I’d started to feel cold. Being chilled was hard to do when covered in velvet. Most nights when I’d trudge home from the mall, I’d be sweaty and stinky from baking in this velour getup. Now, I couldn’t get warm enough.

  An obnoxiously loud yawn cracked through the air and I glanced over at the next couch. The cops—or maybe it was just the mall’s security guys—had dragged the other couch and chairs apart, putting Seth, Garth, and me at distances far enough away that they could question us separately.

  Seth yawned again from his beige upholstered chair. He seemed tired—bored?—more than anything. I knew his feelings about Marlena likely mirrored mine, so I wasn’t alarmed at his mourn-less expression.

  On the couch a few more yards back, Garth sat staring unblinkingly at the wall. His Santa hat lay on the cushion next to his thigh and his white beard was unhooked from one side of his face. The furry accessory lay on his large gut—naturally huge, thanks to beer, not padding—like a sleek long-haired white cat sleeping on him. Rising up…and down with each deep breath he took. I hadn’t heard one cry, one sniffle, one yelled remark from his lips since I’d alerted everyone about Marlena and called 911. Garth was a lively, if sleazy, kind of guy, probably a boisterously funny drunk when he was younger. He had yet to express a reaction to his wife’s murder.

  I didn’t think I’d ever seen someone so zoned out. Now, that’s shock for you.

  I frowned, e
yeing the man who’d just lost his spouse. Pity. Sadness. They were lurking up there in my exhausted head. Just because his wife was a horrible human being didn’t mean he deserved such a loss. Pressing my fingers into my closed eyes, I sighed, hating the overwhelming heaviness that came with, well, feeling sorry for that old drunk.

  Marlena was wicked, but she still didn’t deserve a gunshot to her stomach.

  Someone cleared their throat in front of me. A deep, grating growl of a sound.

  I clenched my teeth together, working my jaw hard. I didn’t need to look up to know who it was. Even though we hadn’t interacted since the police had shown up, I was acutely aware of him being here somewhere. Knowing I wouldn’t be able to escape him.

  I was sure the cops checking out my story and comparing my statements were plenty for the task. But if Knox James was at the scene, I doubted he’d be able to resist bothering me even more. The man lived to annoy me.

  Slowly, I raised my face from my hands, making sure to leave my expression guarded.

  Because if he couldn’t resist the call to needle me and make my life difficult, I grudgingly couldn’t resist him either. I was victim to a raw…awareness that I’d never been able to turn off.

  Not when he’d repeatedly been the officer to arrest Damon.

  Not when he was the cop in charge of putting Damon behind bars.

  And, apparently, not when he was the law enforcement member next up to question me about Marlena.

  The man demanded my attention regardless of the business of our encounters. It was partly for that reason I held a grudge so well. I had no business being…beholden to a guy like him. Any guy.

  “Yes?” The word slithered out from my teeth. God, it was so easy to despise this man. And…desire. What a convoluted twist of lust—and an inappropriate one at that. Still, I kept my tone even.

  “Jade Tabbott.” That was it. He simply said my name like it was an announcement. A clarification as he sat on the coffee table in front of the couch. Leaning back, he stretched his long, thick arms out, splaying his big hands on the glass top behind what I knew was a tight ass. Yeah, I’d noticed it before. It was impossible not to.

  His dark brown eyes, so inky they were almost black, stared at me with a hint of mischief. Such an intense grip of a gaze, it never failed to trap me.

  If he smiles at me… I inhaled as steadily as I could through my nose. I couldn’t handle his teasing manner or holier-than-thou attitude today. Ever again, actually.

  “Yes?” I repeated again, less bite this time as fatigue won over annoyance.

  “We meet again.” Now he did it. A slow-to-start but fully captivating grin, stretching his lips apart to show his too-white and perfect teeth. His attention on me was enough to stir up too many conflicting reactions. Witnessing his too-charming smile, though?

  I glowered at him, hating the tickle of a warmth easing at my core.

  Does he have to be so damn… “Dammit.”

  He tilted his head to the side at my reply. Shot one brow up.

  Does he have to be so damn…gorgeous?

  I refused to fidget in my seat. He didn’t deserve to know how unsettled I was. Because gorgeous was almost too pretty of a description for him. He was, no doubt, fine to look at. But with laugh lines showing near his eyes, a lean, angled jaw and a faint scar above his right eyebrow, he pulled off a rugged, bad-boy appeal instead of a classic beauty. Chiseled yet charming.

  Knox James was the kind of Christmas present any woman would wish for. With his alpha manners and rumbly voice, he practically guaranteed a fine time between the sheets. He was trouble ready to be unwrapped, the kind of naughtiness too good to pass up on.

  All stupid ideas I’d never entertain. But as I leveled my stare right back on him, I didn’t see any problem with visually appreciating him. May as well take inspiration for more fantasies to keep me warm at night. Like fisting his longish black hair, rubbing up against the start of a beard, licking my way down that corded neck and nipping—

  “I’ve been thinking about you,” he admitted, his smile fading a bit as his gaze grew heavier.

  Well…ditto.

  I coughed out a ludicrous sound and let my mouth hang open.

  But, still…

  “Are you…trying to hit on me?”

  He licked his upper lip. “Honey, I don’t—”

  I reared back, blinking. “You sure as hell don’t honey me.”

  “Why not?” He sat up, maybe chasing after me as I leaned away.

  “Because I’m not anybody’s honey.”

  First of all, it was the stupidest endearment ever. Never mind he had no right to endear me. Or I wasn’t dear to him. I mentally groaned. Whatever. Knox James plus Jade Tabbott equaled zero sweet names. Besides, this was business, right? Not a damn social call.

  “Is that your clever way of letting me know you’re available?”

  I squinted at him. “No!”

  “You’re not?”

  “Not for you.” I licked my lips and set my hands to the couch, ready to push to my feet.

  “Burn.”

  I shook my head. “That’s what you came over here to talk about? Huh?”

  “Not particularly. At least, not at this moment.” When I didn’t snap back, he shrugged. “You steered the conversation there.”

  I did not!

  As if sensing I was a paltry centimeter from exploding, he raised his hands in surrender. “I was merely saying you’d been on my mind.”

  “Precious.”

  Another shrug and a hint of a smile. Then he shifted, turning his attention past me and toward the glitz and glitter of Santa’s North Pole Hut, and a frown took over. “Not that I’d want to catch up with you here. Or like this.”

  I scoffed. “Christmas elves aren’t your thing?”

  Brakes screeched in my mind. What? Just…what? Was I flirting with him? It so did not matter if he found my awful velvet suit sexy or not. I mean, I wasn’t opposed to role-playing or sultry costumes. Not that I was getting any to have kinky business as an option anyway. And I wasn’t going to be having hanky-panky with Knox—outfit or not—any time in this century.

  Chill, woman. Take a breath and stop…going there. Heat scalded my cheeks and I swallowed awkwardly. “Uh…” Don’t dig yourself a deeper hole.

  Instead of a smirk or another mischievous expression, he remained sober. “Honey—”

  I jabbed a finger, pointing at him.

  He brought his hands up again in surrender. “Sweetheart…”

  I huffed. “Do you nickname all your…your… Well, what am I? A crime scene…participant? Why am I still here giving reruns of everything that happened today?”

  Leaning forward, he clasped his large hands together. “You’re a witness to the scene.”

  Sounded safe.

  “And no, I don’t soften up with all the civilians I speak with.”

  “Ooooh. Lucky me.”

  My sarcasm must have given his ego a boo-boo because he stared at me icily. What, I was supposed to bask in his “special treatment?”

  “Whether you’ve been daydreaming about me or not, I’d like very much to get out of your mind.” I set my hands on my knees. “When can I leave? What else do you guys need from me?”

  I’d dutifully sat here for hours, without an offer for water of coffee, mind you. I’d answered everything and provided anything that I thought could even be remotely helpful. Keeping me any longer was only an abuse of my patience and goodwill. They couldn’t hold us here all night. I glanced at Seth talking to another cop. He rolled his eyes as he replied to something, looking just as tired of this as I was.

  “I was coming to tell you just that.” He stood, showcasing all six-feet-plus of his muscled and toned physique.

  I clambered to stand too and hated that I still had to lean my head back to maintain eye contact.

  “They—we—have collected enough information for now,” he said, sticking one hand in his pocket. His other hand hooked ont
o the armhole of his vest. “We’ll be in contact if we need to speak to you again.”

  I bet. Cops always wanted something more.

  Standing after sitting for so long, my legs ached. I pulled one foot up to stretch my muscles and teetered to the side. Knox didn’t waste a moment to catch me before I fell. I righted my stance and smacked his hand away.

  “You’re heading home?” he asked.

  “Does it matter?” Was he keeping tabs on me? Again, I checked on my coworkers. Cops still spoke with Garth at the couch but Seth was strolling away from the chaos without an escort. No one needed to know where I was going.

  “Curious,” he admitted.

  I smirked. A curious cop? I didn’t like the sound of that.

  “You still at the apartments at Cole and Tenth Street?” he asked.

  My address hadn’t changed since Damon and I moved to this city two years ago. Which was a detail that I knew he could obtain otherwise. May as well tell him. “Yeah.”

  “Want a ride?”

  “In the back of your patrol car? No thanks.”

  He chuckled a rough laugh. “You’re not under arrest.”

  “Or suspicion?” I twisted my lips. “You did say you’re curious.”

  “You intrigue me.”

  Oh, please. As a woman? Or someone involved in Marlena’s death? It had to be the latter and I was innocent. Just because I found her, and had been her employee, didn’t mean I had anything to do with her being shot. Knox couldn’t be one of those all-brawn-and-no-brains guys.

  “In the capacity of investigating Marlena’s death?” I challenged.

  “Partly.” He nodded toward the mall’s exit. I spotted the ugly sweater-wearing mall management woman speaking with a couple of non-uniformed officers. Maybe they were detectives. “So, about that ride?”

  “I’ll walk.” And I began to. Away from him, and that was a start.

  “It’s been snowing all day,” he said as he caught up to me.

  I stopped mid-step. My boots. I’d worn them in the preliminary wave of snow this morning, walking to work. As a city-dweller who opted to save money and avoid insanity at traffic, I footed it everywhere. Of course, I checked the weather constantly, so Knox’s oh-so-helpful statement wasn’t a surprise.